I don't post about literature on this site. I read quite a bit, but I don't feel qualified to broach the subject, nor do I usually feel a need to.
I'm taking exception today however, because this past weekend I finished Hanya Yanagihara's most recent work, A Little Life, and I would be remiss if I did not comment upon it.
To say the novel is "powerful" or "sadly beautiful" is both insulting and dull. While I cannot say it rivals Nabokov's linguistic flair - The Sympathizer can bark up that tree - it does take the thematic torch and throw it on a pyre.
I could yammer on for most of the day about how relateable it was. How alien it was. How I haven't read something so consuming and devastating in a long, long time. But I'll resist that urge and plainly say that it was tremendous.